Red Ninja
by QueenBattousai
Summary: A short one shot I did based off of a character I created, who happens to be a close friend of Amon's. This was done for my Creative Writing class last year.


Erin Prazan

Mrs. Kuhn

Creative Writing

5 March 2006

Red Ninja

It was a still night; still and black like the dark coffee that sat in the still simmering coffee pot. The Starbucks employee who had just made the pot picked it up and walked over the counter where a tall cup sat, a name scrawled on the side in black Sharpie. _Xzavier_. He tipped the pot, letting the black liquid flow into the cup, quickly looking up to scan the parking lot. _He should be flying in here pretty quick._ He thought, as he reached for the creamer and sugar.

He had just finished mixing the concoction when the familiar ding of the bell above the door caught his attention. He looked up. The headlights of a shiny, black 4 x 4, quad cab Dodge Ram pick-up truck blinded him slightly, so he was unable to see the customer who just walked in the door. "Ah, got my coffee ready for me." An unusually cheerful voice stated as the employee blinked to try and focus. The employee, now being able to focus as the automatic headlights blinked off, looked up to come face to face with a young man as he leaned over the counter to take his coffee, a rather pleasant smile splashed across his face.

"Xzavier Yaven, right on time, as usual." The employee said, checking the clock as it struck nine. Xzavier just shook his dark red hair from his black eyes and sat down at the counter, adjusting himself in his long, black leather trench coat. A glimpse of what appeared to be a ninja uniform peeked from underneath his coat, a red sash tied around his waist. The employee set a muffin in front of Xzavier, just barely getting a whiff of a faint smell that wafted from him. It was the smell of fresh blood. If it was Xzavier's or someone else's was a question that often crossed the employee's mind whenever Xzavier Yaven, the greatest assassin of the Phoenix Islands, walked through that door every night, and about a hundred percent of the time it was someone else's. It was obvious from his garb that he was wearing that some poor bastard met his maker this evening.

"Was it busy today?" Xzavier asked in his usual cheery tone, taking a sip of his coffee as the employee went about cleaning the area behind the counter to close up. A shake of the employee's head was his only answer. Xzavier shrugged to himself and continued to sip his coffee.

About an hour later, Xzavier threw away his cup and walked out the door, waving a good-bye to the employee. Walking softly toward his truck, he gave the hood an affectionate pat before quickly checking for scratches, careful not to miss an inch of the polished black paint. He remembered vividly the last time he found a scratch that extended from the cab to the bed, obviously made by a key. The kid who did it, whom Xzavier found sniggering behind a bush, barely lived to tell the tale. Hell had no wrath like Xzavier on a rampage, especially after someone deliberately damaged his precious truck. "No one hit it," A voice came from the covered bed of the truck, "we growled if we saw anyone coming at it with a key or a crow bar."

"Glad to know you boys are on the job," Xzavier replied, climbing into the cab and turning the ignition, "I was almost afraid I was going to have to replace you two."

Giant white paws with black stripes hooked onto the small window separating the cab from the covered bed and pulled it back, where the face of a giant, white Siberian Tiger soon filled the gapping hole. "Ha ha, funny Yaven." The tiger growled, licking his jowls, his electric blue eyes flashing. "For a second I thought you were serious."

Xzavier frowned at the sarcasm in the tiger's voice. "Saber, if I wanted criticism I would have asked for it." Xzavier retorted, his eyes watching the road for the non-existent traffic. "By the way, I don't seem to hear your dad chipping in his two bits." Xzavier paused his truck at a red light and looked back into the bed of the truck, were another, much older white Siberian Tiger lay asleep in the truck bed. "Poor Bengal, must've worn him out."

"And I do believe I'm going to join him. Let me know when we get home." Saber then stretched out next to his father and closed his eyes. A light snoring could be heard from the back a few minutes later, until Xzavier shut the window again. Xzavier sighed and turned his attention back to the road.

No one could really tell Xzavier's line of work at first glance. A gentleman by all standard's, Xzavier was the biggest people person anyone could lay eyes on. A target by many of the women in the Island for his devilish good looks, Xzavier was suave, polite, and an all around good guy. He was the kind of guy that would see _Brokeback Mountain _and be moved to tears by the end. It was hard to get him angry, and he had a smile plastered on his face for a good majority of the time. It was hard to believe the torment Xzavier had suffered at one point in his life, a torment that had internally and emotionally ripped him apart on a day-to-day basis.

He had never originally wanted to kill people, it was what he was trained to do. Desperate to find the people who killed his brother, Hiltz, Xzavier allowed a demon to take him and train him into the ultimate warrior. It was his way of coping with the pain, his brother being the only family he had left since their deranged father, who went insane during a project his lab had been working on for years, had murdered his mother. Xzavier was the best assassin the Phoenix Team had ever had, and he was good at what he did. He was so thorough in his murders, he left no trace of himself behind, save for the dead body of his victim. Luckily, he knew he could leave the profession whenever he damn well pleased, he just chose to stay as an assassin for a little longer.

He needed the money. He wanted to finally move out of his boss's mansion after he moved in there when he was eighteen. He saved up his money since he started working for the Phoenix Team at age fifteen, the age when he was first trained. He was doing rather well, he thought, beings he had paid for this truck with his own money, paying off the insurance and the gas with his own money. A couple more thousand and he'd finally have enough to be able to afford a nice apartment and pay the rent and utility bills for the next few years without worry. As soon as he did that, be was free to fall back a rank as a normal werewolf hunter like the rest of his team.

It was close to midnight by the time Xzavier parked his truck in the garage next to his boss's black, Cadillac Deville. After making sure the tigers were set for the night in their cage. Xzavier trekked through the silent mansion, stopping only to see a light coming from the entertainment room. Xzavier walked over a peeked in to see three small bodies and larger, more mature body lying on the couch, fast asleep. The older figure, his boss, whom was widely known as Lady Phoenix, slept with her arms wrapped around her three daughters, who lay beside her. Smiling, Xzavier gathered the two older girls and trekked up stairs quickly and put them to bed, before trekking downstairs to grab the youngest girl, only to find her sitting up with her mother's head in her lap.

"Hotaru, how come you guys are down here so late?" Xzavier asked as he gathered his boss' still body in his arms, his coat wrapped around her like a blanket.

"Momma said we could wait up for you." The young girl replied, turning off the TV and hoping off the couch at Xzavier's side. "Plus, I wanted to hear you play before I went to bed." Xzavier smiled and nodded, telling Hotaru to wait in the music room for him, and then quickly walking his boss to her room, where her boyfriend and his best friend, Zec, lay sleeping.

After tucking her under the covers, Xzavier hustled downstairs to the music room, where Hotaru was sitting on the piano bench, waiting. Without so much as a pause, Xzavier seated himself at the piano and cracked his knuckles, waiting for the five year old to give him her request. "Anything by Beethoven," she said after a few seconds, "you play it so well." Xzavier smiled, and without pulling out his music, hit a few keys to test the tautness of the strings before moving his fingers effortlessly over the keys, playing Beethoven's _Moonlight Sonata_ without so much as a flaw. The calmness of the first part was enough to finally seep exhaustion into Hotaru, who softly and slowly started to lean and fall asleep on Xzavier, her upper body propped on his lap.

Xzavier finished the slower first part of the composition before gathering the girl in his arms and carrying her to bed, his arms wrapped about her protectively as he carried her to her room. He watched her sleep for a few minutes, a smile on his face once again as he watched his goddaughter breathe softly in her sleep. He sighed and shut the door before walking down the hall to his room.

He opened the door and flipped on the light, revealing the posters of Godsmack, Metallica, Nine Inch Nails, Korn, and other industrial rock bands that he had on his walls. He frowned in dismay at the sweaty work clothes he had worn earlier that day when he worked in the stables that morning. Currently they were strewn carelessly on the neatly made bed, which the maid had done. The rest of his dirty clothing lay strewn on the floor. Sighing, he walked forward and picked up the dirty laundry, throwing them in the hamper before changing out of his uniform, which was promptly thrown in the laundry basket as well.

After changing into his sleep clothes, which consisted of a large t-shirt and a pair of boxers, Xzavier walked over to his desk, where his bass guitar and stereo sat. Xzavier whipped out a new CD from the pocket of his trench coat and put it in the stereo. The voice of Coheed and Cambria flowed from the speakers as Xzavier turned up the volume slightly, knowing no one could hear him through the sound proof walls. He opened a drawer in his bedside table and pulled out a large photo album, which he promptly laid down on his bed with.

He flipped through the faces of his friends until he landed on his favorite. On the page opposite of his best friend, Amon Van Helsing, was the image of a young woman with short brown hair. Her name _Miho Karasuma_ was written in his neat handwriting in silver thin tip Sharpie under her picture. His eyes filled with longing as he stroked the face of his girlfriend with tender fingers. His eyes quickly darted to the black velvet ring box that lay on his bedside table, and he quietly muttered under his breath, "Soon Miho, soon."


End file.
